


A New World (It's A New Sound)

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Cinderella AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 08:20:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13853766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: Prince Luciano announces a royal ball, after which he'll finally wed, and Branlin wants to attend, even if the Chancellor has banned her.





	A New World (It's A New Sound)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beammetothemoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beammetothemoon/gifts).



> Hey hey, Moony came up with a bangin' AU and I had to write about it!!!! Shout out to her for letting me write her boy again. Title is from Scouting For Girl's "A New Day."

“I’ve decided to wed,” Lou says, throwing open the door to his parents’ study.  “Now, we’ll need to bring all the eligible suitors to the castle.  It’s time for a ball.”

His mother looks to his father, raising a skeptical eyebrow.  Lou has never shown much interest in his less… exacting princely duties, never mind the part where he gets married and fathers children to further the royal bloodline.  

“Luciano, you do realize that if we throw you a ball, you  _ will  _ have to wed one of the suitors that we present to you?” his mother says.  “This isn’t the time for a flight of fancy.”

“Oh, of course, Mother!” Lou says.  “I want to get married right away.  We should start the preparations at once!”

“I knew you’d come to your senses, my dear boy,” his father says, getting to his feet and crossing the room.  “Congratulations.  We’ll begin preparations immediately.”

“Thank you.  I look forward to it,” Lou says with unfamiliar solemnity, shaking the hand his father offers before leaving the room.  

“Our boy really is growing up,” his father says, just as Lou is sliding out of earshot.  

Lou grins to himself as he starts making his own preparations.  

* * *

“But Chancellor Valrona,  _ please _ , I want to go to Prince Luciano’s ball,” Branlin protests.  “It’s supposed to be the biggest ball the royal family has ever thrown.”

“I understand, Branlin,” Valrona says, smiling at her, “but I couldn’t entrust this to just anyone, you know.  We need someone to stay behind and look after the younger students.  You’re the only one I would trust with this.”

Branlin crosses her arms.  She gets these kinds of jobs a lot, to be honest, and usually she doesn’t mind too much.  Except a royal ball like this is a once in a lifetime event- she knows that, even though royal history isn’t her specialty- and she’d like to be a part of it.  Of course, she probably won’t even get to talk to the prince himself, but that’s not the point.  

“Can’t you get Jules to do it?” Branlin asks.  “She’s not fond of crowds anyway.”

“Branlin- you know I hate to bring this up- but with your special circumstances, sometimes I need you to step up a little extra,” Valrona says.  “The other students need you.”

Suddenly, Branlin can’t quite make eye contact with Valrona as her face flushes.  It’s rather selfish of her to be thinking of herself, when the university that’s raised her since birth needs her help.

“You’re right.  I’m sorry, Chancellor Valrona,” Branlin mumbles.

“It’s okay.  I understand well the follies of youth, but once you get to be a little older, a little wiser, you’ll understand.  I have to be economical with these decisions,” Valrona says.  “We’ll be sure to bring you back a souvenir.”

Valrona turns back to her work, clearly dismissing Branlin.  

Trying to keep her composure, Branlin gets to her feet.  She strides out of the room, keeping her head held high as she tries to ignore the preparations going on around her.  

While she’s sure that it’s nothing compared to what’s happening in the castle, the halls of the university are still abuzz with activity.  Women her age are discussing their dresses and how exactly they’re going to grab the eye of the prince, or his equally eligible sister.  The younger girls are atwitter about getting to spend an evening enjoying the finery of the royal palace, while men and boys alike get ready to take advantage of the grand, romantic atmosphere.  

Maybe it’s for the best that she’s not going, Branlin tries to console herself.  It’s not like she has anyone to go dress shopping with, or stay up all night with, dreaming up farcical plots to catch the attention of some prince that’d never look twice at an orphaned, title-less dwarven academic anyway.  Best to leave that to those that it’s really important to, or so she tells herself.

* * *

“What exactly are you doing?” Evie asks, leaning against the doorframe.  

“Trying on an outfit.  What does it look like?” Lou asks.

He examines his dashing figure in the mirror.  While he likes the fine golden color of the fabric, it needs to be poofier.  Lou can just imagine the eye roll from his tailor when he explains his request, but this is his big event, after all.  

“I mean with this ball.  You do realize that Mother and Father are going to make you marry someone at the end of it, right?” Evie says.  “Like, for real, Lou.”

“I know,” Lou says, turning to look at himself from the other direction.  “I think that  _ both _ of my sides are my good sides, which makes it hard to pick just one.  You know that Father is insisting we get portraits done, right?”

“ _ Luciano _ ,” Evie says firmly, but not harshly, “I mean it.  I don’t want you to drag some unsuspecting woman into a political marriage you’re going to be unhappy in.  For both of your sakes.”

Lou pulls himself away from the mirror, crossing the room.  He squeezes his sister’s shoulders reassuringly.  

“I know what I’m doing, Evie.  I promise.  I have no intention of being unhappy or making someone else unhappy,” Lou says.  It’s not a total lie.

“That only  _ kind _ of makes me feel better,” Evie says, but with a laugh.  

“Now, about my outfit…”

* * *

The night of the ball itself, Branlin watches everyone pile into the carriages leaving for the castle, pushing down the burn of envy she feels.  It’d be so nice to be going with them, but someone has to look after the other students who aren’t able to go for one reason or another.  

“Thank you again for volunteering to stay,” Valrona says, squeezing her shoulder before she departs.  “Hopefully, one of the women will be back soon with a royal husband.”

Branlin doesn’t point out that she didn’t actually volunteer for this, just nods.  “Best of luck.”

And then in an instant, they’re gone.

Branlin sighs to herself, then turns back to the university.  There’s not actually much for her to do- the students can mostly take care of themselves, barring some emergency-, so she goes to her room.  

Nothing really catches her attention, not even the stack of research she has piled in the corner for some light reading in her free time, and somehow she finds herself sitting in front of her mirror.

Now, Branlin has always enjoyed braiding her hair, and she’d be lying if she said that in the interim weeks, she’d never considered how she might do her hair if Valrona were to find someone else to watch the castle.  Feeling a little like she’s doing something wrong, she undoes her simple braid.

Once she brushes it out, she gets to work on braiding her hair.  It’s a simple style, her hair forming a crown.  Usually, she incorporates all her hair into it- her favorite braids keep her hair out of her face so she can work better- but for the “ball” she lets most of her long hair flow in gentle waves.  

It looks good, she has to admit.  

“Now, now, Branlin, why are you up in your room when the party is happening in the castle?” a vaguely familiar voice says.  “You look very nice, by the way.  Seems a shame to waste it on your mirror.”

Branlin whips her head around and grabs the walking stick she uses as a focus, about to prepare a ray of frost to knock the intruder back to whence he came.  She catches sight of the intruder and forgets about the ray of frost completely.

“Grulun?” Branlin asks in a small voice.  “But you’re dead.”

Her old academic rival is standing before her, looking as alive as ever despite the fact that she helped bury him two months ago.  He leans back and laughs at her words.

“I am, I am,” Grulun says.  “But on a night like tonight, the veil between the planes gets thin, and if there’s a need, a powerful wizard can make his presence known.”

“A need?” Branlin says, skeptical.  “Because I don’t get to go to a ball?”

“Something like that,” Grulun says, with the kind of mysterious smile that she’s only seen him make.  “Now, what do you say we get you to where you ought to be?”

“I already am,” Branlin says.  “Chancellor Valrona says-”

“Branlin, you deserve to be at that ball.  Valrona doesn’t have to have the final say; she’s not right about everything,” Grulun doesn’t let her finish.

Branlin doesn’t say anything, just shakes her head a little bit.  She shakes her head harder as he waves his hands to create an image between them.  Valrona’s face appears on the image, talking to someone out of view.  

“Branlin is asking about going to Prince Luciano’s ball again,” the other person says.  Branlin recognizes the voice as belonging to her secretary.  “She wants to go.”

“That sweet girl,” Valrona says, voice dripping with pity.  “But no titles, no family. Maybe she could get away with that if she had that  _ something…  _ but she doesn’t.  I’ve never seen her dance; she doesn’t socialize well with her peers; she certainly doesn’t have any wealth- nothing to tempt the prince, unless he has a hidden interest in arcane history.  For the sake of the other girls, we should keep her as far away from the prince.  Although, I do suppose she’d make them look stunning in-”

It’s cut off by Branlin shooting a ray of frost through the image.  She’s breathing heavily, tears prickling her eyes, and she doesn’t want to see the image anymore.  

“So you show up- despite being  _ dead _ \- and you show up here, with some magic pictures that tell me what I already know but just don’t like to think about,” Branlin says, voice wavering.  “I already know I’m just Valrona’s charity case!   She only keeps me around for my smarts!  I don't need you to tell me that!”

“Branlin,” Grulun says, in a low voice, like he’s worried he’ll spook her, “you’re worth so much more than what Valrona has convinced you are.  At the very least, you deserve a night out to enjoy life at a once in a lifetime event.”

Branlin wipes the tears from her eyes, sniffing.  She’d be embarrassed, but there’s no one here except the dead.  

“I can’t get to the castle and I don’t have anything to wear,” Branlin says, “and even if I had everything I needed, I still couldn’t go because Valrona could see me.”

“You are the brightest of all my peers, my dear, old rival, but you lack a certain imagination,” Grulun says, holding his arms in front of him.  “Trust me.”

Branlin nods, just a little.  She wants to go to the party.  She wants to let go, for once.  

“Do you need your old arcane focus?” Branlin asks, nodding towards her walking stick.  

“No, no worries,” Grulun says.  “I’m glad to see you putting my gift to good use, however.”

Grulun murmurs softly under his breath, waving his hands over her.  It takes a good minute before he’s done, during which Branlin tries to stay very still.  

“There!” Grulun says.  “You look beautiful, if you don’t mind me saying so.  I’m a lot better at dress design than I thought I’d be, honestly.”

Branlin looks down at herself to see her plain outfit replaced by a glittering gown.  The rich red-orange fabric is made of something that Branlin can’t identify.  It’s so soft and light that she barely feels like she’s wearing anything at all.  

“One last thing, though,” Grulun says.  

He leans forward, plucking a scrap of paper off her desk.  Kindly, he makes sure it’s blank before he taps it, and a moment later, he gingerly places a mask across her nose.  

“It’s enchanted.  Nobody will be able to remember your face,” Grulun says.  “Now, my power in the realm is only good until the clock chimes three.  Then, everything will go back to how it was before.”

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this, but thank you,” Branlin says.  

“You will one day,” Grulun says.  “But tonight, just enjoy yourself.  Please.”

Branlin nods, tears pricking at her eyes again, but this time she doesn’t understand why.  She blinks hard as she steps forward, stumbling a little on the unfamiliar shoes.

“Not to sound ungrateful for everything, but these shoes are a little loose,” Branlin says.  

“Sorry,” Grulun says, but he’s smiling knowingly.  “You’ll get used to them.”  

Before Branlin can take another step, Grulun has waved his arms again, and they’re standing in the front lawn.  Before them is a carriage, pulled by a pony.  

“Now, the pony is real, but it’s smart.  It’ll come back to the stable afterwards, if you somehow leave it behind,” Grulun says.  “The carriage will become an apple, so try not to be inside it when that happens.”

“How can I ever thank you?” Branlin asks.  “Do you need anything?”

“Just enjoy yourself.  Don’t be afraid to do something you’re not sure of,” Grulun says.  

Branlin steps into the carriage, but before she shuts the door, she turns back to Grulun.  “I don’t know if you’re you, but if you are… I miss you.”

“I miss you as well,” Grulun says, “and I’m glad that I got the chance to see you again.  Now go!  Party!”

* * *

Branlin arrives late to the ball, so by the time that she steps into the grand ballroom, it’s in full swing.  Pairs of well dressed people dance together to lively music coming from the small orchestra in the corner.  The whole room is lit by a series of candles, held aloft by magic of some sort.

Stumbling over the loose shoes a little, Branlin steps all the way into the hall.  She realizes that her mouth is hanging open, and her teeth clack as she rushes to fix that.  

She instinctively shirks away when she sees Valrona, certain that her adventure is going to be over almost as soon as it had begun.  However, Valrona looks right at her, and seemingly she’s just impressed with her dress.  There’s not a single spark of recognition.  

No more worrying about Valrona, Branlin tells herself sternly.  Grulun didn’t do this so she could worry all night.  He wanted her to have fun.  

No, no.   _ She  _ wants to have fun.  That’s what’s important, even if she has to remind herself of that.

Her next instinct, after flinching away from Valrona, is to press herself against the wall to watch everything unfold.  This is an historic event, after all, and as a historian, she really ought to record it for posterity.  

But that doesn’t seem like  _ fun _ , either.  Or at least it seems like work, which isn’t what she should be doing tonight.

Dancing.  She wants to dance.  She loves to dance, even if she’s not great at it, but she’s been too busy to lately.  She’ll ask the next free person she sees to dance with her, it’s decided.  

Her eyes alight on a tall human man with soft looking blond hair.  He moves through the crowd with a confidence that’s attractive, and he happens to make eye contact as he turns his head.  The man smiles invitingly at her, and Branlin makes her way towards him.  

“May I have this dance?” Branlin asks, offering her hand.

“Certainly,” he says, taking her offered hand.  “I never turn down a dance from a beautiful woman.”

Branlin can’t help but duck her head and smile, even if it is a cheesy line.  She rests her other hand at the man’s waist as they start swaying in time with the music.  

“Lucky for me,” Branlin says.

“I found your mask quite striking, my dear,” the man says.  “I didn’t realize that it was a masquerade ball.”

“You really should have read your invitation closer,” Branlin teases.  “There was some hard to read small print on the bottom, very bad design choice.”

The man laughs at that, as if it was particularly funny to say.  “I’ll make sure to pass that criticism along.  Although- and please don’t take offense- I’m not sure I believe you.”

Branlin pretends to be outraged about it, but she just smiles and leans towards him, dropping her voice.  Being anonymous is so freeing.

“Can I trust you with a secret?  You can’t tell, like, the palace guards or the royal family,” Branlin says.

“I’ll do my best,” the man says, still laughing.  

“I’m not really supposed to be here,” Branlin says, grinning up at him.  “I snuck in.  Hence the mask.”

The man tilts his head, looking down at her with a bemused expression.  

“My dear,  _ everyone  _ was invited to the ball,” the man says.  

“Maybe so, but I live at the university, and Chancellor Valrona forbid me from going,” Branlin says.  “This may be a royal ball, but she’s in charge.  Truthfully, I’m more afraid of her than some prince, anyway.”

“Ah, so you’re a troublemaker, so you got banned from the ball,” the man says.  “Suddenly things are so much more clear.”

Branlin laughs, shaking her head.  “Not exactly.  She thought… well, it doesn’t matter what she thought because I’m here now.”

The man twirls her suddenly.  It feels right, however, and Branlin twirls along easily, dress flaring out as she does.  She likes the way his hand feels turning in hers.  

Her shoes trip her up just a little as the man pulls her back in, and she stumbles against him.  She’s pretty sure that he doesn’t mind; his hand comes to rest at her back, pulling her a little closer to his body.  

“You’re an excellent dancer, you know,” the man says. 

“It’s your leading, I promise you,” Branlin says.  “I usually step on my partner’s foot by now- or stub my toe, somehow.”

“I’ll take extra care,” the man says.  “Wouldn’t want to ruin those pretty shoes of yours.”

“I’d be a bit more concerned with your feet,” Branlin says.  “It’s hard to dance with one smushed foot.”

“Oh, you haven’t seen me hop yet.  Very graceful, so I’m told,” the man says.  

Branlin giggles. “Now you’re tempting me to step on your foot on purpose.”

“Would you  _ really _ do that to me, my dear?” the man asks.

“Probably n-” Branlin cuts herself off, wincing as she accidentally steps on the man’s foot.  “Okay, you’re gonna think that was on purpose, but I promise, it wasn’t.”

“You’ve wounded me severely,” the man says, suddenly favoring one foot.  “I can’t go on this way.”

“I guess you’ll have to use me for support, then, unless you’re willing to show me the hopping,” Branlin says.  

“All these people don’t need to see that,” the man says.  

The music slows a little, and Branlin steps a little closer, his hand sliding to secure her in place.  Now, she can feel the heat from his body as they sway slowly in time to the music.  Branlin feels slightly giddy with the rush of her emotions. She’s never been prone to this kind of spontaneity.  

“So… using me as a support it is, I suppose,” Branlin says with a shrug.

The man doesn’t lean on her exactly, but he does press just a hair closer to her.  It’s enough that Branlin can rest her head on his chest.  She takes a moment to take in everything: the warmth beneath her cheek, the slow circles his thumb is rubbing against her back, the soft music, the firm muscle beneath her fingertips.  The soft smile on his face when she tilts her head upwards.  All blissfully real.

“I’m glad that you snuck out,” the man says after a time.  

“I am, too,” Branlin says.  “This is… magical.”

“Do you want to go somewhere with a little more privacy?” the man asks.  

Part of Branlin wants to refuse; staying suspended in this moment- in this stranger’s arms- seems perfect.  But she’d also like to get the chance to get to know him a little bit better, so she nods, beaming as he takes her hand to lead her away.

Branlin expects that he’ll show her to an alcove, but he leads her through a door to a veranda.  It’s not decorated like the grand ballroom, just a couple torches giving off light.  She can just barely hear the chatter from the ball and the sound of the music through the door.  

“So… you’re an academic, then?” the man asks, still holding her hand in his.

“Sure am,” Branlin says.  “I’m a historian, and I do magic, too.”

“A woman of many talents, I see,” the man says.  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“And you?” Branlin asks.  “What do you do apart from being an excellent dancer?”

The man looks out over the land, and Branlin follows his gaze.  It’s too dark to see much, but there are fires dotting the countryside.  They’re on the opposite side from the university, Branlin is fairly sure, but she may have gotten it mixed up.  

The way he’s standing casts his face into shadow, making it hard to read his expression, but his brow is furrowed.  It’s a sudden contrast, considering his light and gallant demeanor.  

“I suppose right now I’m between jobs.  Or I will be, soon enough,” the man says.  “So honestly?  I don’t quite know.”

“Okay, so what do you want to do?  What makes you happy?” Branlin asks.  

“That’s a big question,” the man says, considering.  The pause stretches on, but Branlin is content to wait.  “I want to make the world a better place.”

It should be stupid in its simplicity: who wants to make the world a worse place, after all?  But he speaks with such gentle conviction that Branlin can’t help but be moved.  

“You will,” Branlin says softly.  

“And your studies, whatever it is you do up there at the university, is that what makes you happy?” the man asks.

Branlin thinks about her tears earlier and the bitter, empty echo she's felt since Grulun died. There's a satisfaction in her work, in knowing more about a subject than anyone else, but for the first time she wonders if that's  _ enough  _ to make a whole life.  

“I don't know, but there's no other option,” Branlin finally says. 

The man nods a little, squeezing her hand.  He looks like he’s about to say something else, but the door to the ballroom opens to reveal Valrona. 

Branlin is too startled to listen to what she says, but Valrona just glances at her.  It's rather marvelous; even at this distance, Valrona doesn't recognize her.  Maybe it really was Grulun.  

“Can I help you?” The man asks, sliding between Branlin and Valrona while letting go of her hand. 

“Some of my students are eager to meet you, sir,” Valrona says.  “I brought only our most charming, brightest, and most beautiful.”

Branlin tries not to wince at that.  

“Oh, I don't know about that,” the man says.  His voice is light and airy again, but there's the barest hint of an edge in his voice.  

Valrona laughs, a high, uncertain sound.  “I promise you, only the best we have.  Girls, come meet Prince Luciano.”

Branlin inhales sharply, barely audible over the sudden footfalls.  She’s been talking (and dancing) with the prince.  That’s… unexpected, and she winces a little at how she made fun of his invitations and stepped on his foot.  Way to make an impression.  At least he has a good sense of humor.  

With the sudden influx of people, it gives Branlin the chance to slip away.  Nobody is looking at her; all eyes are on Prince Luciano.

When she reaches the doorway, she turns to watch Luciano chat with her classmates.  Truthfully, she feels bad about leaving him to Valrona, but she doesn’t want to risk talking, lest the enchantment not extend to her voice.

Luciano is talking to Alison- a nice, sweet girl-, and Branlin leans her head against the doorframe.  They’d make a pretty picture, except Luciano is watching her, despite the surge of young women between them.  

Branlin tosses him a smile and quick, half salute before slipping back into the ballroom.   By the time Luciano disentangles himself from Valrona and her classmates, she’s stepping on the feet of a different man.  By the time Branlin disentangles herself from him, he has another woman in his arms.  They keep almost catching each other for the rest of the night.

* * *

Lou watches the mysterious woman dance with the other man.  He had a plan- a very specific plan- but he’s thinking that the plan might need some alteration.  There had been a profound sadness in her answer about whether she’s happy, and, well, that’s not something that Lou can let stand.  

He wishes that he had had the foresight to ask her  _ name _ , but he had gotten too absorbed in the conversation to remember that they were technically strangers.  

Whenever he looks over at her, she’s looking back at him, which Lou takes as a good sign.  Maybe she’ll be amenable to his plan.  He’s not sure how to approach her here, in the palace, but they don’t have much time and he has little other choice.  

His musings are interrupted by a sudden peculiar action.  The woman looks up at the clock, presses her hand to her mouth, and runs out the door.  Heedless of the rudeness of breaking away mid dance, Lou takes off after her.

Lou makes it to the steps just in time to see the woman run towards where the carriages and horses are tied up.  He pursues her there, not wanting to let her leave before he at least makes his proposition.  

“My dear!” Lou calls out, hoping to stop her as she appears atop a strong looking mare.  “My dear, wait.”

“I’m sorry!” the woman calls back. “I have to get back to the university.”

“You don’t!  Just wait a minute!”

“I can’t, Prince Luciano!”

“Call me Lou!  And  _ wait _ !  Please!”

“I’m sorry, Lou!”

The woman squeezes the sides of the horse with her bare heels.  She bolts down the lane, leaving Lou in the dust.  

He watches her go, feeling his heart thud unusually in his chest.  Maybe it’s a trick of the darkness, but he could swear that the bright color of the dress fades away right as the first chimes ring out to mark the passing of another hour.  

When she’s out of sight, Lou looks around with a sigh, hoping for some clue to the mysterious woman’s identity.  Something sparkly catches his eye, and he bends down to see a shoe- presumably hers, unless some other barefoot partygoer has been through recently.  

Lou considers the shoe, and considers the woman who owns it.  His plan is going to need a lot more alteration.

* * *

Waking up the next morning feels like kind of a dream.  Branlin can’t believe that she was dancing with Prince Luciano.  She even made him laugh a couple times.  It’s kind of funny, considering Valrona thought she would have sent him running for the hills.  The whole night is her own little secret, settled lightly in her chest. 

“Well, it was fun for one night,” Branlin says to her reflection as she washes her face.  

Branlin puts on a pair of shorts and loose tunic, pulling her hair back into a simple braid.  There’s nothing going on today, and she’s tired.  Hopefully everyone else will still be in bed, worn out from the night of partying.

Before she can get to work, she needs food, so Branlin heads down to the main hall.  While she’s up later than normal, she still should be able to catch breakfast.  

Branlin hears more voices than she would’ve expected as she comes down the stairs.  She realizes that’s there’s actually a gathering of people.

“I am  _ telling _ you,” a familiar voice drifts down the hall over the babble, “none of these women are my bride to be.  I want to see your other students.”

Sure enough, Prince Luciano- Lou, she reminds herself- is standing there, arms crossed.  He’s dressed a little more understated than the night before, but he still looks wonderful.  Neither fact surprises Branlin.

“My prince, these are all the women who attended your ball from this university,” Valrona says.  

Lou shakes his head, scanning the crowd.  His eyes pass over her, and Branlin realizes that the mask she wore meant that he won’t recognize her, either.  

“She said that she wasn’t supposed to be there.  I told you that, Chancellor,” Lou says.  He holds up one of the shoes she was wearing last night.  “This is hers.”

“Perhaps the woman was dishonest; she certainly sounds like a troublemaker,” Valrona says.  “But, as I recall you enjoyed your conversation with Jules, so perhaps the two of you should speak privately.”

Branlin makes her way through the crowd, using her elbows to help.  She’s not quite sure what she’s going to do when she gets to the front, but she has to say something.  It’s not likely that Lou danced with two troublemakers from the university.  

“Hey,” Branlin says, smiling tentatively at Lou.  “Did you enjoy the ball?”

“Not now,” Valrona says, barely looking at her.  

Lou looks at her, head tilted.  He blinks slowly, taking a step towards her.  There’s almost a look of recognition, which Branlin takes as an encouraging sign.

“You took my shoe,” Branlin says.  “But I guess I’ll forgive you this once.”

“I said that now’s not the time for your jokes, Branlin,” Valrona says.  

“Try on the shoe,” Lou says, now focused entirely on her.  

“My prince, really, she’s just-”

“I want her to try on the shoe,” Lou says.  

Lou bends down to one knee before her as the babble behind Branlin increases.  With him bent down, his head is near hers; she reaches out to steady herself on his shoulder and leans in so she can speak softly in his ear.  

“I don’t know how you’ll do it, but you’ll make the world a better place, Lou,” Branlin murmurs.  “And you’ll be happy.”

When he pulls away, shoe fit loosely on Branlin’s foot, Lou is beaming at her.  He presses a warm hand to her cheek.  

“You know, sneaking out was supposed to be a secret,” Branlin says, smiling at him as she leans into his touch.  “You weren’t supposed to tell everyone.”

“Whoops,” Lou says, not sounding sorry.  “I had to find you somehow, my dear.  You neglected to leave your name.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll forgive you,” Branlin says.  “Just this once.”

“Thank you, my dear,” Lou says, getting to his feet and raising his voice.  “I’ve found my bride-to-be.  And now, we need to talk in private.”

Before Branlin can say anything else, Lou scoops her up.  She drapes her arms around his neck instinctively.  

“You didn’t actually ask me to marry you, you know,” Branlin points out.

“Just wait,” Lou says quietly.  “Where can we get some privacy?”

“My room is up the stairs,” Branlin says, pointing helpfully.  

“Excuse me, excuse me,” Lou says as he wades into the crowd.  “Prince and future princess coming through.  Chop chop, out of the way!”

Branlin would be lying if she said that she didn’t enjoy the absolutely dumbfounded look on Valrona’s face as she watches them go.

* * *

“You know, I don’t even know your name,” Lou says when they’ve reached her room, door shut behind them.  

“My name is Branlin,” she says.  “Nice to meet you.”

“It’s good to meet you as well,” Lou says.  “We have a lot to go over, and not a lot of time.”

Despite his words, he takes the time to do a quick visual sweep of the room.  It’s small, but packed full of books and stacks of paper, with plenty of scrap laying around.  There’s a small vanity near what looks to be a closet.  The bed is pressed against the wall, and there’s a comfy looking chair next to the small window.  

In short: it’s a picture of organized chaos.

“Yeah?  Like you actually  _ asking _ me to marry you?” Branlin asks.

Lou sets her lightly on the ground before settling himself in the chair.  It’s as comfy as he expected, if a little small for him.  Ah, well.  

“Not exactly,” Lou says.  “I know I did just reveal your secret to Valrona and the entire university, but can I still trust you with a secret of mine?  I’m warning you: it’s a big one.”

“You can trust me in just a moment,” Branlin says.  

She covers her ears and then nods at Lou.  

“You want me to-”

Branlin shushes him before he can finish the sentence, crosses the room, and puts his hands to his ears, pressing hard.  She then goes to the door, pressing her palm against the door.

Despite having his hands now pressed firmly over his ears, Lou can still hear a big boom from the other side of the door.  His eyes widen in alarm, tempted to reach for his sword, except Branlin doesn’t seem alarmed at all, even though she doesn’t have her ears covered.  

“To deter those who might be tempted to eavesdrop,” Branlin says, after she’s come back to him and pulled his hands from his ears.  “Now, you can trust me.”

Lou grins at her.  “You are very smart, my dear.”

“It’s kind of my thing,” Branlin says.  

“I don’t actually intend to get married- that was a cover.  I don’t intend to stay here at all.  When I told you that I wanted to do good, I meant I want to go out in the world and make it better with my own two hands,” Lou explains, taking her hand.  

“Like, as some kind of royal ambassador?” Branlin asks.

Lou shakes his head.  “Not at all.  Actually, I haven’t told anyone else about this; they wouldn’t understand.  But I was hoping you would.”

“You’re a good man, who wants to do good,” Branlin says slowly, nodding.  “I guess I just don’t know why you’re  _ here _ . Are you planning to do good in my bedroom?”

“Because, my dear, I want you to come with me,” Lou says eagerly.  “I was going to leave last night, in the chaos of the ball clean up, but, well, I had to find you and invite you to come.”

Branlin’s hand squeezes his tightly, as her brows furrow.  

“You want me to leave the university?” Branlin says.

“If you’re not happy here, then maybe there’s something out there that will make you happy,” Lou says.  “I thought you should have a choice, at least.”

“That…” Branlin presses her lips together.  She looks at something in the corner, and Lou follows her gaze to a walking stick with ornate carvings on it.  The stick seems to hold some sort of significance to her; she straightens up and turns back to Lou with a grin on her face.  “That makes a lot of sense.  Maybe this is crazy, but I’ll come with you.”

“We’ll have to play along with the wedding charade for a little while, but we’ll find a chance to slip away soon, I promise.  I have supplies waiting for us a little ways away,” Lou says.  

“Do you want to leave right now?” Branlin asks.  

“I do, but I don’t think you understand,” Lou says.  “They’re not just going to let me leave.”

“Do you trust me?” Branlin asks.  

“Yeah, I do,” Lou says honestly.  

“We can leave right now,” Branlin says.  “Just let me grab a couple things.”

Lou sits in the chair and watches her flit around the room.  She fills a pack with clothes and a small gold pouch, along with some parchment, a quill, and ink.  Then, she grabs a cloak and the stick.  

Branlin returns to Lou, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him to his feet.  She leads him over to her closet, pressing a stone.

“I’ve lived here my entire life,” Branlin explains as she pushes the wall open, “and I know this place better than anyone.  There are passages everywhere.”

Branlin leads him down the hall, and when they reach the end of the hall, she starts climbing a ladder.  To Lou’s surprise, they’re going  _ up _ .

“Uh, not to doubt you, my dear, but shouldn’t we be going down?” Lou asks.

Branlin pauses in her climb to grin down at him.  “Not if you want to get away undetected.”

“You’re not gonna tell me your plan, are you?” Lou says as they resume the climb.

“Don’t want you to chicken out on me,” Branlin says.  

Lou just laughs.

* * *

“Still trust me?” Branlin asks, looking up at Lou with raised eyebrows.

They’re standing on the roof of the university, holding hands.  Nobody ever goes out back, so there’s no one around.  

“You are very smart,” Lou says, still sounding nervous.

“I’ve done this before, plenty of times,” Branlin says.  ”It’s easy.”

“On your count then,” Lou says, squeezing her hand tight.

Branlin counts to three, bends her knees, and leaps forward.  She’s always loved this feeling of freedom as she flies through the air.  

Lou is screaming beside her, which continues even after she casts feather fall to slow their descent.  It’s kind of amusing, him screaming as their feet lightly meet the ground.  

“I must be dead.  Or I must have broken every single bone in my body,” Lou says, sounding dazed.  

“Magic, my dear,” Branlin says, patting his arm with her free hand.  “Nothing else like it.”

Lou looks down at her with a bit of awe.  “Not dead.”

“Nope,” Branlin says.  “Now where’s your stash of secret goods?”

“This way,” Lou says, leading her ahead.

It’s a half hour walk to where he’s stashed his goods, a walk they make in silence.  Branlin has spent a lot of time silent with other people- most of her time is spent in silence, surrounded by other students in the library.  This is the first time that she’s ever felt like she was  _ with _ someone while they were silent.  

They reach a clearing, and Lou stops them.  He climbs a tree while Branlin watches, and a few seconds later, a couple packs thud to the ground and then a great clatter as what appears to be armor follows.  

Branlin rests on a stump as he gets into his armor.  The adrenaline of her decision has worn off, but she still doesn’t feel any doubt about running off with this man that she’s known for less than a day.  Something in her life needed to change, even if she didn’t realize it until she was speaking to Grulun’s spirit.  

“You know, they’re going to think I kidnapped you,” Branlin points out once they’re on their way again.  She doesn’t know where they’re going; it doesn’t matter.  “When they finally realize that we’re gone.”

“What?” Lou asks.

“I mean, think about it.  You go into a room with me- your future bride- and disappear completely.  They’re not going to want to blame you,” Branlin laughs, swinging their interlaced fingers.  “I’ll be famous as a prince thief.”

“Oh no, I didn’t even think about your reputation!” Lou says.  

“No worries.  It’ll make me seem much more exciting.  I can just hear the histories now.  Branlin was a brilliant arcane historian, whose career ended on a strange note when she disappeared with Prince Luciano.  Many people suspect that she kidnapped him for some necromantic purpose,” Branlin says, still giggling at the thought.  

“Ah, is that your plan?  A dark, necromantic purpose?” Lou teases her.

“Exactly,” Branlin says.  “That was my plan, all along.”

* * *

The two of them keep walking until it starts to grow dark, and then they make camp by a river.  There’s enough wood to make a small fire, which Branlin lights easily with a flick of her wrist.

Lou hands her a hunk of bread and some cheese, along with a waterskin.  The food is pretty good quality, even though it must have been sitting around for days at least.  

“I’m so sorry if it’s gone stale,” Lou says.

“It’s yummy,” Branlin says.  “Plus, I’m really hungry.”

“And the water?” Lou asks.  

“Everything is wonderful.  Don’t worry,” Branlin says.  “Although, I just realized I didn’t think this through.  I didn’t nab the sheets off my bed.”  

“Oh, no, I didn’t think of that!  My dear, you must take my bedroll.  I will sleep under the stars until we can find you your own,” Lou says.  

“I’m not going to kick you out of your bedroll,” Branlin says, “but, you know, a few hours ago, we  _ were _ gonna get married.  If you’re okay with it, I’m okay with snuggling for warmth.”

Truthfully, Branlin hopes that he is okay with it.  They’re sitting just barely an inch apart now, and it feels so  _ nice _ .  She enjoys Lou’s easy physical affection; it’s something totally foreign to her, but she’s already decided she’s a fan.  

“I do not want you to feel beholden to our cover,” Lou says, with concern.  “I don’t expect you to marry me.”

“I was joking about our betrothal,” Branlin says.  “But if you’re not comfortable, that’s okay.  I brought a spare cloak.”

“The last thing I’d ever want to do is make you uncomfortable,” Lou says.

“You’re a gentleman, Lou.  I promise I’m not uncomfortable with the notion,” Branlin says.  

“Then I’m not either.  It’s settled,” Lou says.  “We share.”

* * *

Later that night, they curl up together under the blanket.  They had been planning on sleeping back to back, but it’s gotten colder than expected, so Lou wraps his arms around Branlin and she presses her back to his chest.  

“Thank you,” Branlin says as she drifts off to sleep.  “Thank you for bringing me along.”

“I’m glad you came,” Lou says.  “It’s nicer, not being alone.”

“It is,” Branlin agrees, snuggling a little bit closer to Lou.  “I don't know if I would've been brave enough to run off alone.”

There's a thrill of excitement in the pits of both of their stomachs as they drift off to sleep.  Whatever’s ahead, at least they have some stranger they met at a ball to back them up.  It’s more than they expected.

#  _** Epilogue ** _

Three towns- and several narrow escapes from Lou’s bodyguard-  later, they haven’t gotten another blanket.  They also haven’t purchased much in the way of food.  Turns out that stopping wolves from terrorizing small villages isn’t great paying work, even when those wolves are possessed by demons.  

Not having a second blanket isn’t much of a problem.  Turns out, they’re both fans of cuddling for warmth.  Not having food is, especially once they finish the last bit of Lou’s packed food.  

“No worries, my dear, I can hunt down food!” Lou says, full of boundless enthusiasm.

Branlin watches him try to hunt down a deer, swinging a sword.  The deer is much faster than Lou is- it’s not even a competition- and there’s a desperation to his swing that makes Branlin nervous for him.  She’s pretty sure he’s been giving her more than her fair share of the remaining rations since they realized they would likely run out.

“Let me try,” Branlin says, getting to her feet.  

“By all means,” Lou says.  

Branlin kicks off her shoes, stalking quietly towards the woods.  When she catches sight of a deer, she stabs with her walking stick and murmurs softly, shooting a ray of frost at it.  

The bolt hits dead on, and deer is now teetering on now frozen legs.  Before Branlin can claim her victory, the deer teeters over and shatters to pieces.

“I think you were a little rough on it, my dear,” Lou says.

“Yeah, maybe,” Branlin says, tilting her head and examining the carnage.  She bites her lip, considering, before she holds out her walking stick.  “Do you mind holding this, darling?”

“Of course not,” Lou says.  

Hands free, she shakes them a little before tracking down another deer.  Her magic is a little weaker without the boost from her arcane focus, so this time, the deer- while definitely cold and dead- doesn’t shatter into a million pieces.

Branlin hoists it and carries it back towards where they made camp.  It’s not too heavy, but it should give them enough meat for, uh, honestly, Branlin has no idea, but it should fill them up for tonight, at least.  Maybe?  She hopes.

“So, uh, what next?” Branlin asks as she deposits the deer in front of Lou and takes her stick back.

“What do you mean?” Lou asks.  

“I mean… how do you take the dead deer and make it venison?” Branlin says.  

“You don’t know?” Lou asks.

“No, but I’m eager to learn,” Branlin says.  

“I don’t know either,” Lou says.  “I kind of figured that you knew how to clean a deer and cook it.”

Branlin shakes her head.  “We had a kitchen staff.  The few times I went down to the kitchen, I didn’t really pay attention to what they were doing.”

"Hmmm,” Lou says, humming contemplatively for a moment.  “I’m sure we can figure it out together.”

“I’ll work on the fire and you can work on cleaning the deer,” Branlin says.  

“Ah, going to leave me to flounder all by myself?” Lou says, rummaging for his dagger.

“Exactly,” Branlin says, grinning at him.  

Lou just smiles back at her, shaking his head before turning towards the deer.  He gets to work trying to gut it, and Branlin watches him out of the corner of his eye.  

He ends up up to his elbows with blood and viscera, but half an hour later, he’s produced passable looking cuts of meat.  They crackle as he places them near the fire to cook.

“This isn’t so difficult,” Lou says.  “I think we’re gonna eat well tonight.”  

Branlin presses her hand to his arm to clean him off with her magic, letting it linger after he’s cleaned up.  She looks at the venison doubtfully; it doesn’t really look like the meat they used to eat, but as long as it’s edible, that’s all that really matters.

“How long does it need to cook for?” Branlin asks.

“I’m not sure.  Until I get really hungry?” Lou offers.  “So not long.”

Branlin realizes that that’s not a good cooking method, but she doesn’t have anything better, so she just nods.  

“I could try to cook it super fast with burning hands, but I think it would just burn it to a crisp,” Branlin says.  

“My dear, always with the big flames.  Not to worry, I can be patient, when needed,” Lou says.

“‘s not so bad, waiting with you,” Branlin says, trying to ignore how she turns bright red.

Branlin had, of course, hoped that she would like the man that she ran away with.  It’d be terrible if Lou was secretly mean or cruel or otherwise not the kind man he seemed to be from the outset.

What she hadn’t expected was just how much she would enjoy being around him.  Something in his easy physical contact, kind laugh, and determined good nature made him wonderful to be around and Branlin likes him a lot more than she expected.  

“Yes, I quite enjoy your company, too,” Lou says, wrapping an arm around her.  

Branlin leans her head against Lou’s chest, snuggling closer as the night chill settles in.  

* * *

Lou stirs the next morning to the sound of moaning a few feet away and wakes the rest of the way up when he realizes that Branlin isn’t snuggled up in his arms like usual.  The spot where she usually sleeps is cold, so she’s been gone for a while.  It’s funny how quickly he got used to sleeping with someone in his arms.  

When his eyes open, the first thing he sees is that Branlin isn’t there.  He sits up, looking around, and there’s a strange slushing sound from where he heard the moaning from a few moments before.

“Branlin?” Lou asks, sitting up.  

“Don’t!  Stay where you are!” Branlin’s voice comes from the same place as the moaning and the slush.  

“What’s wrong?” Lou asks, getting up.

“I don’t think we cooked the meat long enough,” Branlin says.  

“Branlin, are you okay?” Lou asks.

There’s a long silence, punctuated by moans and rustling.  Lou is just starting to contemplate bursting back there regardless of what Branlin said when she appears, supporting herself with her walking stick.  

“Don’t go back there,” Branlin says.  “Just a suggestion.”

Lou rushes forward to help support the smaller woman.  She definitely seems weaker than usual, leaning against him heavily until he eases her onto their bedroll.

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to travel today,” Branlin says, voice scratchy.  “I’m sorry.  I know we need to stay ahead of your bodyguard.”

“Don’t you dare apologize, my dear,” Lou says, pressing his hand to her cheek.  “I should’ve cooked the deer more thoroughly.  I’ll make sure to, next time.” 

Branlin leans into his touch, lips twitching into an almost-smile.  Her eyes, normally bright and curious, are dull, half closed.  The difference scares Lou.  

“No worries.  I don’t think I’m ever going to eat again,” Branlin says.

Whatever she’s going to say next is cut off by a low whine in the back of her throat.  Her midriff lifts up as her face twists into a grimace.  A half minute later her body relaxes.

“We’ll get good food at the next town,” Lou says.

“Can you help me get up?” Branlin asks.

“I think you should rest,” Lou says.

“Please,” Branlin says.  “I really don’t want to ruin our bedroll.  I’m gonna be too tired to magic it clean, and we only have one.”

“Oh!” Lou says, helping her up.

Branlin gently pushes him away when he tries to keep helping her walk.  She speeds off back towards the same tree that she was behind when Lou woke up at an impressive clip.  A few seconds later the slushing repeats.

“I-I’d understand if you had to keep going without me,” Branlin says.  “I know you have to keep ahead of your bodyguard.  Plus, this is gross.”

Lou respects Branlin’s privacy enough not to rush back there to correct her notion.  Sometimes, she’s very foolish for someone so smart.

A few minutes later, Branlin comes back from around the tree, perking up when she sees Lou.  She’s still leaning heavily on the walking stick.

“You’re still here,” Branlin says.  

“Of course I am,” Lou says, helping support her once more.  “We’re in this together.  We’re doing good  _ together _ .  I'm not going to leave you, especially not to take the blame for my disappearance.”

Despite her obvious illness, Branlin beams at him.  “I’m incredibly lucky.”

“Lucky?  Branlin, my dear, you look like you’re about to pass out,” Lou says.

Branlin gives a strained laugh.  “Oh, darling, I’m in too much pain to pass out.  No worries about that.  But I’m here with you.  That makes me lucky, Lou, no matter what else.”

Lou isn’t sure how to respond to that, but his instincts take over.  He leans down to press his lips against Branlin’s.  Despite her lips being clammy, they move against his, and Lou adjusts his hold on her so she’s pressed close to his body.

“Mmmm, if my head wasn’t spinning before,” Branlin says.  “I hope we can do that even when I’m not food poisoned.”

“Don’t worry.  We can kiss as much as you want,” Lou says.  

Branlin’s eyes widen and her back straightens just a little as she detangles herself from Lou, heading back towards the tree.  

“I wouldn’t make promises you might not be able to keep,” Branlin says, over her shoulder as she disappears back around the tree.  “I think I like kissing you.”

“Sounds good to me,” Lou says.

After about twenty seconds of slushing, Branlin comes back around the tree.  She’s smiling at him as she does so, looking at least a little less in pain than before as she sits back down on their bedroll.  

“I think I’m done for now,” Branlin says.  “Thank goodness.”

“Good.  You need to rest,” Lou says.  

Lou drapes the blanket over her shoulders, settling in behind her.  He grabs his waterskin and places it in her hands.  It’s important that she drinks enough, even if she can’t eat.  

“Let me know if you need anything,” Lou says.  “And make sure to drink.”

Branlin takes a couple sips of the water before leaning against him heavily.  She hums softly as he runs his fingers through the hair that’s come loose from her braid; he knows that she likes the feeling of her own fingers running through her hair, and hopefully she likes this, too.

“I can probably travel a little bit,” Branlin says a couple minutes later.  “Not fast, but I could travel some.”

“No, you’re resting today, my dear,” Lou admonishes gently.  “And that’s it.”

Branlin laughs for reasons that Lou can’t quite discern.  She rests her hand on his leg, comforting and warm.  

Despite her big talk about travelling, she’s asleep within minutes, and Lou lays her down.  She likes to sleep on her side, so Lou makes sure to turn her so she’ll be comfortable.  

Lou wrinkles his nose as the wind shifts and the smell from Branlin’s tree wafts towards him.  It gives him a good excuse to curl up next to Branlin and bury his face in her hair.  

All in all, while Lou likes being a man of action, this isn’t a half bad way to spend a day.  This isn’t why he left home, not at first, but now, she has become a wonderful part of this whole, big adventure.  


End file.
